


Four Little Words

by Kizzia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Older Sherlock and John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzia/pseuds/Kizzia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is asleep. Sherlock ponders.</p><p>A very small birthday present for Bradspyjamas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Little Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bradspyjamas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bradspyjamas/gifts).



Sherlock slipped quietly out of bed and padded to the door, pausing only when John made a snuffling noise, eyelids fluttering slightly as he rolled into the space Sherlock had left. The sun was not yet up but the pre-dawn gloom gave enough illumination for Sherlock to examine the face he never tired of looking at.

John always looked younger in sleep, slack muscles smoothing away lines worn from years of study followed by years of service and then years of Sherlock. Not that Sherlock didn't like the lines. On the contrary, every single one of them only added to the beauty of the one man who had accepted him for who he was, laughed with him, cared for him ... loved him. Sherlock could think of nothing more precious.

John snuffled again, nose wrinkling slightly, and Sherlock gave himself a shake. Clearly he was growing sentimental in his old age.

 _We are not old_ , he could hear John say. _Old is going deaf and muttering about teenagers and forgetting where you left your keys five seconds after you put them down_.

A point Sherlock had conceded at the time without noting aloud that John was only lacking the deafness to fulfil his own criteria. Still, a birthday was a birthday, a not-so-arbitrary marker of the time spent in this world and, since he was of the firm belief that John could never spend enough time in this world, a day Sherlock deemed more than worthy of celebration. Celebration which wouldn't happen if he remained standing by the bed staring at his husband like a love struck idiot.

'I do love you,' he found himself murmuring, despite the fact that John was sound asleep. Or possibly because of it. Even after all this time, voicing his emotions did not come easy.

Huffing a sigh at his own ridiculousness, Sherlock spun on his heel and stalked off into the kitchen to make tea and bacon sandwiches to fortify them for the day he had planned.  In the bed, John cracked his eyes open and smiled at the ceiling, treasuring the unexpected present of those four little words he wasn't supposed to have heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Darling! I hope you have a lovely day :)


End file.
